


A Single Solstice

by Starrie_Wolf



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: All 13 prompts from 7 days in one ficlet, Alternate take on what happens after S2 ending, Gen, Shiro Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 16:24:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12821397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrie_Wolf/pseuds/Starrie_Wolf
Summary: Shiro wakes up on the astral plane.He doesn't know how he got there; the last thing he remembers is defeating Zarkon and earning the Black Bayard.





	A Single Solstice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acier/gifts).



> So @firenashes said to me, _you can’t possibly do all 13 prompts for Shiro Week in one coherent fic_. Me being me, I said _watch me_.
> 
> Day 1: Time + Space  
> Day 2: Original + Divergent  
> Day 3: Break + Mend  
> Day 4: Black Bayard  
> Day 5: Isolation + Companion  
> Day 6: Duty + Choice  
> Day 7: AU

_…_

 

 

 

  

 

_… …_

 

 

 

 

 

_… ?_

 

 

 

 

_… … …_

 

 

 

 

 

_… .. –_

 

 

 

**_!_ **

 

He surfaces, in bits and pieces.

_Where –_

A galaxy spins past lazily beneath his feet.

This is –

He knows this place.

He’s been here before.

Shiro opens his eyes to a sky of endless violet.

He remembers now; his name is Shiro. He’s the Paladin of the Black Lion.

And this is the astral plane, a place where time and space meet, and both cease to exist.

* * *

Shiro doesn’t remember what he’s doing here, of all places.

He was –

… was…

Zarkon?

It’s easier to close his eyes.

 

He drifts.

 

Behind his closed eyelids, timelines converge and diverge; a million possibilities, a thousand probabilities. In one, he is the Black Paladin – in another, the Blue – in a third, the Alteans are evil and he’s not a Paladin at all.

In that universe, his best friend is Slav.

He doesn’t want to think about that universe.

* * *

But the human mind was never meant to handle the concept of infinity.

He’s broken and reforged; galaxies spin in long swooping swirls across his torso, even as his mind shatters into a billion pieces, each the birth of a star, the death knell of a supernova.

 

But something’s holding him together, something calling him; and that’s what makes him, compels him, _forces_ him to pull himself back together, piece by piece and inch by agonising inch, until he could recognise the source of that siren song vibrating in his bones.

The Black Bayard. The Bayard that he ripped from Zarkon’s mind, that he’s irrevocably bound to, is active once more.

 

 _Keith_ , he thinks dizzily, and knows it to be true, like the rise of a moon and the setting of a star.

Shiro breathes.

There is no air in space, much less the astral plane, but the motion of his chest is routine. Soothing.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

It is quiet here.

There’s an echoing emptiness at the back of his mind. The Black Lion, his constant companion for the past year, is silent, and he cannot tell if it’s because even magical giant space cats can’t reach so far into the astral plane, or if it’s because there is a new Black Paladin.

How long has he been in here, anyway? A week, a month, another year –

But does it matter?

If his absence allows Keith to flourish as the leader he was meant to be, Shiro thinks he can be content with that.

* * *

Shiro sleeps.

Sometimes he dreams, little snippets of what he likes to think are from his universe – aliens he’s never seen before, bits of what he can recognise as the Black Lion cockpit, or that memorable time he walked (floated?) in on an epic PVP battle between Pidge and Lance.

The images ripple, like the surface of a pond, like he can _touch_ them if he would only reach out a hand –

He resists.

 

Something is wrong.

The dreams come further and further apart now, and more often than not he closes his eyes to darkness.

The Black Bayard grows cold.

Keith’s presence is fading, day by day, fluttering weakly like the wings of a newborn butterfly.

There’s a void inside him now, an aching hunger, and Shiro doesn’t know how much longer he can last, how much longer he can hold onto himself without them grounding him.

He needs to make a choice.

It would be so easy, you know? To just let go, to let himself rest in this timeless place, to spiral apart into a thousand galaxies and a million stars.

But duty calls.

* * *

A loud, piercing noise greets his arrival.

Shiro blinks. His eyes are dry in the artificial atmosphere generated by some kind of Altean engineering he’s never pretended to understand, and his right arm tingles like it’s gone to sleep for too long.

But he recognises the screens in front of him, the controls under his hands.

He’s done it.

He’s back.

 

Strange, he doesn’t remember the pilot’s seat being so warm before, nor this solid.

Shiro looks down.

There’s a knife dangling limply by his thigh, right where his abdomen would’ve been. He recognises that knife.

It’s a good thing he’s still wearing the paladin armour.

“… Sh- _shiro_?”

He recognises that voice too.

It’s sinking in now. He’s done it. He’s _back_.

“Shiro,” Keith says again, the knife clattering to the floor, like he’s still trying to process this information, and Shiro can’t blame him when he’s doing the exact same thing.

“It’s good to be back,” he says – or, well, tries to say. His voice comes out hoarse, with the quality of an airy giggle, and once he starts laughing he finds that he can’t stop, giddy with the acute sense of relief, high on the thousand little sensations he’s forgotten all about while trapped in limbo.

He doesn’t know about all those alternate realities; but in this one, at least, he’s right where he belongs.

**Author's Note:**

> Find it [on Tumblr here](https://starriewolf.tumblr.com/post/167867451894/shiro-week-2017).


End file.
